


Home for Lunch

by Historical_Muse



Series: Andy Serkis/Richard Coyle [5]
Category: British Actor RPF, british actor rps
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 18:11:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Historical_Muse/pseuds/Historical_Muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Strange is re-commissioned by the BBC, Richard discovers that there are distinct advantages to filming close to home...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home for Lunch

**Author's Note:**

> Much of Strange was filmed around North London – particularly Crouch End.

_Give me a break!_ Andy groans with a dismay more feigned than felt, as Richard bounds cheerily through the door on the stroke of one o’clock.  _Finished for lunch already?_ he adds dryly after Richard greets him with an enthusiastic kiss on the lips.

 _I’m only round the corner,_ Richard beams, flushed from running and from fighting off yet another tennis ball on a stick that The Mill, in a departure from the world of **_Doctor Who_** , will later render into a monstrous, tentacled demon.  He races upstairs to the bedroom, flinging off his clerical garb as he goes.  _You don’t want me to keep this on again, do you?_

Andy smiles.  Fucking Richard while he’s still dressed as a priest, albeit of the Anglican variety, is a delicious turn-on that feeds into the kinks of this lapsed Catholic’s sexual fantasies – but it doesn’t do to spoil himself.  _Another day, maybe._

 _You cooking lunch?_ Richard calls from above, now stark naked and peering over the banister rail.

Ignoring the hungry gurgles and rumbles in his tummy, Andy sighs and turns the dial on the slow cooker down a little.  _It can wait._

 _I’ll cook tonight, if you like,_ Richard offers.

Climbing the stairs, Andy shudders.  Unless it’s his famous scrambled eggs, Richard’s cooking is not so much _cordon bleu_ as _cordon bleaugh_ – or, as Richard ruefully admits, “cordoned off.”  _No thanks,_ he calls back hastily.  _Not when you’re more Gordon the Gopher than Gordon Ramsay._

 _Oh, okay,_ Richard yells back, with no trace of being affronted.  _You coming up now?_ he adds, sounding impatient.  _I’ve only got an hour, remember...I’m needed back on set pretty prompt.  Got to handle this bloody great demon – an absolute monster it is, too; I – ooh, hello...talking of monsters..._

Sighing and groaning with pleasure as Richard takes his hard, swollen cock into his mouth and sucks it greedily, Andy lies back on their bed and buries his fingers in Richard’s tousled hair.

 _Lunch,_ he thinks dreamily as Richard’s fingers fondle his balls and stroke his cock, _can most definitely wait!_ 

~  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  ~


End file.
